


That Escalated Quickly

by Wereatwoshot



Category: Faking It (TV 2014)
Genre: Almost Sex, Amy thinking of Karma, F/M, Liam being less annoying, Light Angst, but thank god it didn't happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1908708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wereatwoshot/pseuds/Wereatwoshot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn't take long for Amy to realize drunkenly sleeping with Liam Booker isn't up there on her wish list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Escalated Quickly

**Author's Note:**

> The first line of this story came to me while I was washing dishes in the kitchen. Don't ask. But I ran with it after having a few drinks. And this strange, awkward baby came out of it. It's really out of my element too since I don't think much of Liam's character. 
> 
> This is after the finale and it follows the activities we saw in those last five seconds before the show ended. I changed Amy's fate and picked a different ending. It's kind of bitter I'd say.

There isn't enough alcohol on this planet to prepare Amy for Liam Booker's penis.

It was fine. She figured they'd make out a little bit. Maybe he'd touch her boob, fist some hair. But then it went there. And her clothes practically peeled themselves. And his belt buckle thudded the floor. And she felt the length of _it_ pressing into her thigh—and everything got very…still.

She hears her breath because it's the loudest thing in the room; louder than his, louder than the music on the radio she doesn't remember turning on. It's like those free fall rides at Six Flags where they shoot you up super high but you're still kind of safe, so you embrace those last few seconds to dangle your feet, experience the view…and then you drop.

Amy's drop has no end.

Her vision swims all over, a combination of champagne and Liam oriented choices gone realized. The room's too dark—when did the lights go out? Whose idea was that? He's a black, desperate, breathing shadow hanging above her. She can't help but realize how fucking wrong it is for his knees to be digging into her flower comforter right now. It's invasive now that she thinks about it. Especially with everything out in the open. Her skins all sweat from their romping. _Their_ romping. The urge to cover up finally fills her but her legs still wrap around Liam's waist and it's…it feels too late to be doing that now.

"What?" Liam's voice makes her jump. "Is it the music?"

She glances at the ceiling and shakes her head because no, Liam, it is so not the _fucking music_. She stops shaking the second she feels wedding cake threatening to come back up.

Amy feels him sigh more than hears him. He's that close. _They're_ that close. Her body grows cold when Liam lifts off of her but she doesn't miss how much easier it is to breathe either.

Liam reaches for the light, mumbling, "I get it." It takes him three lengthy attempts but he manages to get the damn thing on.

Amy wishes he hadn't.

She sees a little bit of everything now. Liam's swollen, kissed stupid lips, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his briefs hug his hips and how his hair looks _really fucking bad_ , and how Amy would love to make a remark about it but shuts up the second she realizes that _she's_ the reason for that.

She chooses not to look at him anymore; instead she opts for her legs. She's just now noticing the teeth mark Liam left earlier on her thigh just before Amy accidentally footed him in the face. She looks at the patchwork of red blotches on her stomach from where Liam gripped and groped too hard, handling her body like a piece of sheet metal rather than soft, impressionable clay. And in that moment, Amy's cruelly reminded that _this_ is the idiot Karma Ashcroft chose.

(Over her).

"Better, right?"

Amy looks up to see Liam pointing towards her now functioning bed lamp. In some part of his liquored, shrunken husk of a brain he must take her silence as a yes because he's quick to cup the back of her thighs and lift her hips into him.

"Wait," she says, fingers digging into her comforter. Liam's grip loosens. "Would you just…" she licks her lips, "Would you put your pants back on?"

He lets go completely and slaps his hands on his thighs.

"Seriously?"

Amy raises her eyebrows. "Do I look like the funny type?"

Liam's hands lift in surrender, "Raudenfeld, that wasn't a challenge."

"Didn't think so, Booker," Amy answers in a level tone.

They size each other up while a '90s Mariah Carey song plays in the background (maybe it is the music). They're both still in their underwear but it feels reasonable with the alcohol still coursing through Amy's veins. It also helps that whatever fire she lit within Liam's gone now, if his flattened briefs are anything to go by (thank _God_ ).

Amy's bed shifts when he gets off of it. She stares at the stupid planes of his back as he looks for the rest of his clothes. Watching Liam without participating in the hunt makes her realize how drained she is. The only thing stopping her from curling away and passing out now is the threat of moving too fast, overshooting her stupid, swirling equilibrium and actually falling off the bed. And that's not an option. She has to save face in front of the idiot Karma chose (over her). Though she's not sure how much face she has left now that he's seen her in all of her glory _twice._

"Shit out of luck," he says, holding up his ripped at the collar button up. "We play mean, don't we?"

"If I had the energy and didn't feel like puking up my soul? Just know I'd kick you in the head," she says. "Again."  

Liam's brows reach his hairline. "Daily noted."

"Duly."

Amy gets off the bed and stumbles to her dresser. Even with just pants on Liam's overdressed. Amy slips on a shirt that's one size too big—Karma's.

"Is it cool if I go out your front door—or should I sneak out the back?" Liam asks while slipping on a shoe.

Amy leans against her dresser and crosses her arms. "Unless you plan on making your rounds with my sister I'd go the back way."  

Liam nods until he reaches the door.

"I didn't say you had to leave, you know."

He looks at her. "What else am I supposed to do?"

Amy shrugs. "We can raid my fridge and watch Dance Moms."

"Why?"

Amy doesn't notice she's jigging her leg until it bumps her dresser.

"I don't know," she says, tightening her arms around her. "I guess if I'm going to have the hangover from hell in the morning I'd rather have someone I look better than here. Does something for a girl's confidence."

Liam smiles.

"Know anything about Duck Dynasty?"

Amy holds his gaze. "It's Dance Moms or nothing."

He parts his lips to say something but stops. He crosses the room and sits on Amy's bed.

"How hot are the moms, exactly?"

***

"Couple of rules. Don't talk about Karma, don't talk when the shows on, if you eat the last cheese puff you have to refill the bowl. If you have to puke, do it in the bathroom down the hall. Got it?" Liam shoves a handful of cheese puffs into his mouth and nods. "Good. Onto episode one."

Liam's spread out shirtless on her floor. A semi-circle of junk food and a couple of beers Amy stole from Bruce's fridge stash in the garage surround him.

Amy breaks the unspoken rule and checks her phone. Just to see. No text messages. No calls.

The alcohol's doing that weird thing where she can't tell if it's actually wearing off or if she's actually just an emotional drunk because she feels the pressure of tears pushing forth. Spikes of irritation quickly follow but she blames it on the boy she hates, whose actually abiding by her rules and seems to be _enjoying_ himself.

The offhand comments she sprinkles throughout the commercials come like second nature.

("Don't assume this means I like you. Like, at all.")

("I never got around to telling you this but you're kind of an asshole for crashing my mom's wedding.")

("Your lips are ironically girly. She-who-shall-not-be-named ever comment on that?")

Amy doesn't realize Liam's fallen asleep until she trips over his unconscious body on her way to the bathroom. She knocks his head pretty good but he's beyond passed out and frankly, Amy's a little pleased with herself. That's twice now.

She avoids looking at the mirror when she's splashing her face with water. It's the last thing she needs to see right now. But she knows. She feels the tangles in her post- almost fucked hair and how her smudged liner stings her eyes. She caught a glimpse of her lips when she checked her phone. She's seen their state of dehydration and bruised plumpness. She knows what she must look like. She'd die before ever letting Karma see.

Amy heads back into her room, turns Dance Moms off and slips under her covers. She takes one last look at the idiot on her floor Karma Ashcroft chose (over her) and somehow, she's relieved. She may not know Karma's whereabouts, but she knows where Liam is.

And as they always say, you keep your enemies close.


End file.
